


Forgiveness

by kidcarma



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dry Humping, Explicit Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Masturbation, Punishment, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink, dont worry komaeda is down for it though, semi-public
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23858761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidcarma/pseuds/kidcarma
Summary: The thing about Komaeda is that he never seems to learn his lesson.
Relationships: Kamukura Izuru/Komaeda Nagito
Comments: 3
Kudos: 254
Collections: Mixed_Fics





	Forgiveness

The thing about Komaeda is that he never seems to learn his lesson. Kamukura knows this well- knows it’s really only a matter of time until the memory of his last punishment fades and the disobedience comes crawling back into his urges. It’s predictable. He’s only a human, after all. Driven by some primal need and this time it comes in the same place it did before. They’re in a meeting.

Enoshima is at the head of the table, just like always, the others on the sides, pushing the glasses she manages to manifest up the bridge of her nose while she bounces back and forth between her droning and that high pitched shrill which could give anyone a headache, even on a good day. Fate tempts the weakest, but it’s almost a surprise even to Kamukura when Komaeda begins in his antics again, because he certainly wasn’t a fan of the reprimanding Kamukura had given him the last time he’d done something like this. 

Seated at his usual place on the floor, by Kamukura’s feet, head resting against his thigh, nobody even needs to look to know he’s got his characteristic grin plastered across his features. Enoshima is important but so  _ so  _ easy to ignore when Kamukura is in the room, sitting  _ right there _ . His presence makes Komaeda dizzy and warm and he only spares a second of contemplation before his hand comes creeping upward, wrapping around Kamukura’s calf, shifting to press his nose against the inseam of Kamukura’s trousers and breathing in. It makes him giddy. To serve such hope. 

He’s growing hard just at the thought but it’s okay, he rationalizes, the tablecloth is hiding most of him and if he can be subtle, he can surely get away with it this time. He just needs to relieve the itch under his skin. 

Ever so slowly, he shifts to straddle Kamukura’s foot, not once bothering to look up. He knows what he would see anyway- Kamukura is stoic, not once flinching, and he certainly wouldn’t be phased by anything like this. Komaeda is predictable scum and he knows it, but that doesn’t stop him from rolling his hips against Kamukura’s shin, rutting ever so slightly to ease the pressure in his groin. He does it once and pauses, withholding what he knows would be a loud, shaky exhale, but when nobody else notices him, or points it out (Kamukura doesn't even bother to give him a warning this time but that's okay because Komaeda will take any punishment he gives), he can’t help himself but do it again. 

Once, twice, and soon Komaeda is shifting his hips in earnest, trying not to draw attention to himself as he bites down so hard on his lip it begins to bleed, the sharp tang of iron flooding his mouth and his eyes go half lidded because he’s  _ using _ Kamukura’s leg to pleasure himself in front of everyone, thinly veiled by a sheet of fabric. 

Suppressing a whine, Komaeda’s grip on Kamukura’s slacks tighten, and briefly he realizes with shame that he’s wrinkling the nice fabric but it’s too late to turn back now. A particularly rough thrust makes him stutter, warmth beginning to creep into his fingertips and tingle in his gut, and it feels  _ so so so _ good that he doesn’t even notice Enoshima has stopped talking. 

“ _ Kamukura, _ ” her stern voice jolts Komaeda out of his haze and he swallows thickly, eyes quickly snapping to Enoshima’s face. She’s not staring at him, she’s looking at Kamukura, but at the tone of her voice he  _ knows  _ that he’s been caught. “Do us all a favor and go deal with your pet.” 

It all happens so fast- Kamukura wordlessly jerks his leg, shaking Komaeda off, and he hoists him up by the collar of the shirt, to stand. He lets go then, not bothering to tug him out of the meeting room or down the hotel's hall because he knows Komaeda will follow obediently, unquestioningly. 

“I’m sorry, Kamukura,” Komaeda’s response is instant as soon as they’re out of ear shot, his trembling legs struggling to keep up and he’s guided down the corridor, presumably to their room. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please-“

“Quiet.” 

Komaeda snaps his jaw shut, heat flooding his face as he tries to ignore the stiffness in his pants and is instead consumed by the anticipation of his punishment. He doesn’t want what happened last time. Kamukura had been so  _ cruel _ , driving him to the edge so many times only not to let him come until he’d decided he’d had enough. Komaeda knows he had deserved it though and he deserves whatever is about to happen too- he won’t ask. He wants to know desperately but Kamukura’s simple order for silence is enough to keep his mouth shut. 

When they arrive at their shared room, Kamukura closes the door behind them, and he moves to sit in his chair. Eyes scanning Komaeda, who is visibly shaking, Kamukura’s red stare meets his sharply, until he points to Komaeda’s usual spot on the carpet, which sends him stumbling eagerly across the room, kneeling at Kamukura’s feet.

“I’m sorry,” the apology comes spilling out even though Kamukura hasn’t given him permission and he cringes because he’s only digging himself further into his grave but he’s overwhelmed by guilt at his disobedience. “Please forgive me- I’ll make it up to you, I’ll be good, I’ll-“

“Stop.”

Komaeda swallows again, and his eyes are starting to sting and he wants so badly to reach out but he won’t. He won’t. He can be good. 

“It’s clear that you’ve forgotten your lesson, so I’ll have to give you a reminder.”

“I’m so predictable, it’s pathetic,” Komaeda gasps through his laughter, hugging his arms to himself. “Please-“

“You’re going to show your obedience to me,” Kamukura’s voice is deathly unwavering, as always, his feet planted firmly on the floor, hair cascading around his shoulders in a curtain. He’s so beautiful that Komaeda could cry. “If you want forgiveness, you’ll need to follow my orders.”

“Yes, of course,” Komaeda nods enthusiastically, his vision slightly blurred. “Anything. I’ll do anything.”

There’s a pause, a heavy silence that fills the air as though Kamukura is considering his words, but naturally that’s only a front. Kamukura already knows what he’s going to do- he’d surely predicted this outcome and prepared suitably and there was no changing his mind once it was made up. 

After what feels like forever, he sheds his suit jacket, moving methodically as he hangs it over the back of the chair and briefly Komaeda’s gaze falls to his hands, and thinks of how easily they could crush him. How they should crush him. How happy he would be to die by such hands. He wonders if Kamukura is going to fuck him- but that wouldn’t be a punishment at all. 

“Finish what you started,” Kamukura’s order is monotonous and he can sense the brief hesitation from Komaeda even from where he’s reclining in his chair. 

“I’m-?”

“You’re going to sit down there and rut against my leg until you finish. If you had truly expected to get away with your base, pathetic actions, this is what you would have done anyway. Understood?”

“Yes.”

It’s only fitting, really. There are much worse punishments, Komaeda thinks, but he doesn’t want to push his luck. If this is what Kamukura wants from him, he will do it. 

Shakily, Komaeda moves to straddle Kamukura’s foot again, thighs pressed on either side of his lower leg as he exhales, eyes pinned on Kamukura just in case he gives any kind of indication that this is some joke. But Kamukura never jokes. 

  
He’s still hard, almost painfully so in the tight confines of his jeans, and so when he rolls his hips against Kamukura’s shin, he can’t help but sigh at the little relief. His clammy hands cling desperately to the fabric and Kamukura’s stare is so harsh but so apathetic.  
He doesn’t want to keep Kamukura waiting. He doesn’t want to disappoint. He can be good, he wants to show that, so after a few timid thrusts, Komaeda swallows whatever reservations he had and begins humping Kamukura’s leg in earnest. 

It feels good, he can’t deny, and when Kamukura reaches over to pluck a book off the side table flipping it open, Komaeda lets out a desperate moan. Of course he’s boring Kamukura. He’s worthless- but the part inside of him that wants to serve is screaming at him, no matter how much it stings to not have Kamukura’s attention, so he keeps going, sweat beading at the back of his neck. 

  
The movement against his leg, jostling the limb is inconvenient at most. Kamukura has no problem focusing on his book as Komaeda continues to rub against him eagerly, the sounds of his whimpers and moans growing in pitch. It never takes long with him. Komaeda has always been so easy, and Kamukura knows that will never change. It’s boring. Predictable. 

  
Komaeda lets out another groan, his eyes falling half shut but he forces them to stay open. Looking away from Kamukura isn’t an option. He owns Komaeda, wholly. 

Limbs tingling, Komaeda whimpers as his cock throbs, wishing desperately he could free himself from his jeans. It hurts but it’s not enough to stop his orgasm from approaching, in fact the pain might even be helping him along. He’s shameless, breaths coming in heavy as he clings, biting on his lip again and reopening the wound. 

“K- Kamukura, I’m close,” he wheezes, head clouded by lust and when Kamukura hums in acknowledgement, he moans again. 

Desperately, Komaeda chases his own end, rutting erractically as the pit in his gut grows until his orgasm crashes into him and he cries out, waves of pleasure and heat flooding through him as he soaks his boxers in cum.  It’s almost entirely unsatisfying though- after coming from Kamukura’s touch so many times before, this pales in comparison, and Komaeda is left a sweaty, sticky mess, heaving in gasps of air as he slumps weakly against Kamukura’s leg. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs weakly into Kamukura’s thigh once he’s found his voice. Kamukura finally sets the book down, granting Komaeda his attention. “Please forgive me. I won’t do it again.” 

He wants so badly to peel off his clothes, to soak in the bathtub and wallow in his humiliation for a little while, though he won’t do anything unless Kamukura asks it of him. 

“Stand up.”

Komaeda nods, picking himself up off the floor, wobbly limbs and grimacing at the unpleasant oversensitivity he feels. 

“Strip.”

He puzzles slightly, only for a moment, but nods again, twitching fingers working at the button and zipper of his jeans, shirking his clothes off until he’s entirely nude, and he sets the articles neatly off to the side, even though they’ll have to be washed later, he’s nothing if not tidy. 

He’s not forgiven yet. That much is clear. Kamukura would have said so directly, and the heavy weight of dread settles in his stomach when he realizes he isn’t in the clear yet. 

Kamukura stands, Komaeda’s eyes widening a fraction, and Kamukura takes the few steps, sitting himself on the edge of the bed. Komaeda gravitates to him regardless of lack of order, standing in front of him, slightly tense in anticipation. 

“Are you going to fuck me?”

He can’t say the idea is entirely unappealing. Being used by Kamukura for his pleasure would be an honor, despite the discomfort it might bring him right now from being so sensitive. The thought of it makes his dick twitch, but his expression nearly falters when Kamukura speaks again. 

“No. Bend over my lap.”

_ Oh. _

“I’m going to make a mess of your pants,” he laments softly, but still he moves to comply, heart hammering underneath his ribcage. 

“Then you’ll have to clean them.” 

Kamukura shifts back slightly, making room for Komaeda to drape himself over his lap. The hotel bed is a little bit higher off the floor than normal beds, so Komaeda has to strain on his tiptoes, but it’s not unmanageable. 

“I’m sorry, Kamukura,” Komaeda tries again as a last ditch effort because his breaths are starting to come in short again. His voice is weak. “I’m really sorry.” 

“I know,” Kamukura tells him, and Komaeda jolts when Kamukura’s hand rests softly on the back of his thigh. “You will be forgiven when I’ve decided you’ve atoned enough. You’ll receive twenty, and you’ll count them each out loud. I know you pride yourself on being good, so I expect that you won’t tell me to stop unless absolutely necessary. Understood?” 

“Understood.” 

Komaeda grits his teeth, cheeks aching as he relishes in what is about to come. He enjoys pain. But this isn’t meant for him to enjoy. This is because he’s a pathetic, selfish excuse for a servant who can’t do anything right. The least he can do for Kamukura is suffer during this, but it seems he can’t even do that, when Kamukura brings his hand down sharply against Komaeda’s ass, he inhales at the resulting smack. 

“One.”

It stings. Kamukura is strong, but Komaeda can tell that he’s holding himself back as he counts the next hits aloud, two, three, four, five, six, his fingers digging into the sheets as he tries not to squirm. He can be good. Seven, eight, nine, and on ten Komaeda moans outright, hanging his head as he realizes just how much his skin is beginning to burn. Kamukura is partial to leaving marks on him. This is no different. 

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen is when he can’t help but jerk, flinching in Kamukura’s hold as he reflexively tries to arch away from the pain. 

“Stop moving.”

The sharp crack of skin on skin fills the room and Komaeda cries out “fourteen.” That one hurt much more. 

“Kamukura- please,” he gasps, writhing, toes flexing as tears well in his eyes. Smack. “Fifteen-“

Kamukura doesn’t dignify him with a response, simply bringing his free hand up to press firmly on Komaeda’s back, keeping him in place. He brings his other hand down harshly again. 

“Sixteen.” It’s almost a sob, and Komaeda presses his thighs together, trying to escape the sensation- his cock is pinned helplessly between himself and Kamukura’s lap and he’s half hard again but he knows he couldn’t come even if he wanted to. “Kamukura-  _ please, I can’t- _ “

“You can,” Kamukura tells him, and he gives a small respite, kneading the abused skin gently as he speaks, voice still monotone. “You’re almost there. Are you telling me to stop?” 

“N- no, but it  _ hurts _ , Kamukura.”

“It’s meant to hurt. This is punishment.” 

Nodding, Komaeda whimpers, taking a deep breath as he braces himself for Kamukura to continue. He can do it. He won’t let Kamukura down. 

His skin is on fire as he counts out the seventeenth hit, breath hitching in his throat as hot tears escape from the corners of his eyes. 

“Eighteen,” Komaeda hiccups. “Nineteen-“

Kamukura stops. 

“Beg for it.”

“Please,” Komaeda breathes urgently. Distantly, he realizes his fingers are clenched so tightly into the duvet that his knuckles have gone white. “Please hit me. _Please_. Please let me earn your forgiveness, Kamukura. Please- I don’t deserve it but please.” 

Kamukura’s hand raises and Komaeda’s body tenses reflexively, and he lets out an unabashed cry when Kamukura spanks him for the final time. The count of twenty falls from his lips pathetically, and gasping in air, Komaeda tries to control his trembling. Kamukura rubs his hand soothingly over the inflamed skin and Komaeda knows he doesn’t deserve such kindness. 

“You’re forgiven.” 

“Thank you, Kamukura.” 

Komaeda makes a move to stand but is surprised when Kamukura eases him, then lifts him up to set him properly on the bed, laying on his stomach. 

“You’ll do the laundry when you feel capable of standing,” Kamukura tells him, staring passively at the stain Komaeda has left on his pant leg as he slides them off, setting them in the pile of dirtied clothes and slipping into a new pair. 

“Of course, Kamukura.” Komaeda’s voice is half muffled into a pillow, and he sounds far away from himself in his own ears, limbs floating and tingling, trying to drift in the feeling for as long as he can. It will be unpleasant to sit down for the next few days, but he deserves that. He’s been forgiven though. The forgiveness feels just as good. 

**Author's Note:**

> did i want the first work i published on this account to be porn? no not really but here it is. i hope u enjoyed!


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